For Rent
by BinJLG
Summary: Laila went to see about a place to stay and found the most handsome man as her lodger. Only problem is, now she can't leave. Drabble/fan smut. Takes place modern day. Rated M for future naughty parts. Krolock/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

She looked up at the castle in front of her anxiously. This was the right place, but there was no way the ad that led her here was real. It had to have been a fake or some practical joke or something. No one who lived in a place like this could possibly need money so badly as to rent out a room. She read over the printed advertisement in her hand again. "Looking for lodger. Reasonable rent. Linens, meals, and utilities included. First come, first serve." Then it listed the phone number and underneath she had scribbled the address when she called it a few days ago. Her Romanian was very poor, so she had some difficulty understanding the pre-recorded message, but she got the gist of things.

A gust of wind suddenly ripped the small scrap of paper from her hands and she barely had time to bring her scarf up around her face to shield herself from the bitterly cold late winter's wind. She looked up at the sky and saw what looked like a bad blizzard rolling in. Looks like she would be stuck here for at least the night if she didn't get this over with quickly. Lowering her head against the loose snow that blew up in the wind, she made her way up the slick path and pulled the cord for the doorbell.

The door immediately opened and she could feel the warmth pouring out from the room just beyond. Grateful for the warmth, she hurried in a shut the door behind her, stamping off the snow on her boots on the little welcome mat beneath her. She had taken a taxi to the nearest village and then walked from there, a trip which had taken her most of the day.

"You must be freezing," a soft, feminine male voice with a slight Romanian accent said in front of her. She looked up and saw a rather good looking man with long blonde hair back in a ponytail and twinkling blue eyes standing at the base of a grand staircase. He wore a slouchy neck cream colored sweater and tight, what looked like leather pants. He had a long knows, finely arched and trimmed eyebrows, a cheerful face, and long nails that she swore had sparkles on them. Her gaydar started going off like crazy. He quickly strode over to her and helped her out of her coat and other winter accessories, hanging them all neatly on a nearby coat rack.

"Thank you," she said, still shivering slightly from the cold she had been in. The man moved to take the large messenger bag that she used as a purse that was slung around her shoulder, but she politely stated that she was fine, thank you.

"You must be here about the advertisement," he said, daintily leading her by the arm into an adjoining, lavishly decorated sitting parlor. There was a roaring fire and she gratefully accepted the chair by it that was offered her.

"Yes," she said, rubbing her hands together. "There haven't been any other applicants are there?"

"Not a one," the man sighed, taking a poker and stoking the fire. "I've been so disappointed too. That ad's been out for at least a week, but none of the people who showed up ever even made it into the castle."

"I can almost understand why," she said, looking around her at all the gothic architecture and old portraits. "This place seems pretty intimidating." Then she realized something quite unusual that she should have noticed immediately. "How did you know I spoke English?"

The man's reaction was almost immediately, but she swore there was a flash of a flinch somewhere before his reaction.

"Darling, anyone with this large of a castle and you don't expect us to speak English?" he sassed playfully. He stood from his place by the hearth. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go get father so you two can talk business." And with that, he quickly rushed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"Wait, fath-" was all she managed to get out before he had shut the door behind him. She sighed and slumped back in the chair. She looked over the room at the rattling windows. The wind had really picked up and it had started snowing, not to mention the fact that the sun had started to set.

"Looks like I'm staying here tonight," she sighed to herself, pulling her light brown curls back into a loose ponytail.

"Don't sound so down about it."

She turned and saw a tall man dressed in comfortably fitting black slacks and a casual grey button up shirt. He was incredibly attractive, with bright, icy blue eyes; defining black eyebrows; and sweeping, almost poker straight black hair with a few silvery-grey streaks peaking out. He didn't look any older than his late thirties, and she had a hard time believing that this man was the previous' father. She stood to greet him and shake his hand, wanting to appear professional and courteous.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that all my stuff is down at the village inn and I was hoping to get back there by tonight."

Instead of shaking her hand, the man walked over to her and gently took her hand in his, raising it to his lips and kissing it before gesturing for her to sit. She did, feeling small and somewhat awkward. The man was at least a foot taller than her and she wasn't used to dealing with such old-fashioned, gentlemanly behavior.

"May I inquire as to your name?" the man asked, sitting down in the chair across from her.

"Right, sorry," she apologized. There was something about this man and these surroundings nagged at the back of her mind, but she couldn't figure out what. "My name's Laila. And yours?"

"Count von Krolock, at your service," he introduced with a small bowing gesture. "Well, Laila," he said, indicating toward the window. The snow was really coming down outside now and the windows were making a terrible rattling noise in their fight to keep the wind out. "It looks like you'll be staying the night with us, perhaps longer if you so desire. I do hope you find my home to your liking."

"Wait," she started to ask, confused. "You don't know a thing about me. Isn't there supposed to be some sort of interview before you decide this sort of thing?"

"No need," von Krolock waved his hand dismissively. "I can already tell you'll do just fine."

Laila was about to protest when she heard the door behind her click open. The blonde man stepped into the room and announced, "Dinner's ready."

Von Krolock stood and offered Laila an arm. "Shall we then?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Dinner was... awkward at best**.** All that was available was soup and some crackers to go with it.

"You must excuse our lack of choices," von Krolock had said, letting his own bowl cool a bit before tucking in. "We don't often have guests, so our pantry is a bit bare."

After that they ate in near silence, a servant came and cleared their bowls away. He was a lean young man who looked no older than 18 (not too far off from Laila's own age of 20) and couldn't have stood more than 5'8". He had parted and combed back chocolate brown wavy hair, a boyish face, and two different colored eyes; left blue, right grey.

"Daniel," the Count said to the boy before he had a chance to leave the room, "bring Herbert and I our usual bottle and bring our guest a nice strong cup of tea." The boy nodded and left into what Laila could only assume was the kitchen.

"So tell us, Laila," Herbert said casually, resting his chin on his folded hands. "How did you come across father's little ad?"

"_My_ ad, Herbert?" von Krolock asked, cocking an eyebrow. "_You_ were the one who put it out as a practical joke."

"Yes, but you were the one who went along with and advantage of it, daddy."

"I was looking through the classified section in the local paper," Laila responded, stifling a small giggle at Herbert's "daddy" statement. "My Romanian's not that great, so when I saw your ad printed in both Romanian and English, it kind of jumped out at me."

"Forgive me for asking," the Count inquired, "but if your Romanian is as bad as you're implying it is, what on Earth are you doing so deep into the country?"

Laila dodged the question as she realized something strange Herbert had said. "Herbert, I don't remember telling you my name. How did you know it?"

The Count and Herbert cast quick glances at each other and Herbert sighed, placing his hands firmly on the table. "You caught me, dear. I had been eavesdropping on you two to see how the 'interview' went."

Laila regarded him suspiciously as Daniel placed her tea in front of her, then handing his employer and Herbert each a glass of wine, setting a dark, unlabeled wine bottle between them. Laila picked up her warm mug and took a cautious sip while Herbert poured himself and his father a glass of... was that wine? It looked too thick to be wine, and the color was slightly off. "What brand of wine is that?"

"Just a local brand you've probably never heard of," von Krolock said, swirling his glass and taking in the aroma before taking a sip.

Laila simply said "Oh" and continued to drink her tea. It was strong, like the Count had ordered, and had a hint of bitterness to it, but she thought it would be rude to not drink the mug that had been offered her. Her head was becoming a bit fuzzy, though. It was difficult for her to think and the cup in front of her kept going in and out of focus. Something was wrong.

"How is your tea?"

Laila looked up to see Herbert casually examining his nails, but the Count; the Count was grinning over at her wickedly. And were those _fangs_?

"Delicious, thank you," Laila slurred, reaching into her bag and finding her cell phone. If she could just call someone. Just let someone know where she was. But the Count gripped her wrist in a second, easily prying her phone from her slowly weakening fingers.

"There's no need for that, now," he said in an eerily soothing tone. "It would be best to not fight it. Just sleep now. That's it..."

And then everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

_(Someone please review this thing. I crave constructive criticism on my style.)_

**Chapter 4:**

When Laila awoke, she had no idea where she was. Her head pounded and it was dark all around her. Everything came flooding back to her and sat bolt upright, causing her head to spin. She couldn't see a thing, but she could feel that her bag had been taken from her and someone had changed her clothes. It felt like she was in some sort of sundress made out of heavy cotton that down to her knees. She was on some sort of bed with the heavy covers thrown over her. She threw the covers off of her and carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling cold stone beneath her feet.

She slowly stood up, keeping her hands on the bed for support. Once she was sure she could stand on her own, she cautiously started feeling her way through the dark, centimetering her way forward with her hands outstretched until her fingers brushed up against some very thick, heavy velvet material. It felt like it was just hanging there, so Laila wrenched what she could only assume was a curtain aside.

The first thing she noticed was just how heavily it was now snowing outside. It was practically a white-out blizzard. The only light source she had came from the dim, flickering light which poured out from the windows below her. She turned and looked around her room as best as she could.

It was a large room with the only windows being the ones she stood in front of now. The bed was at least a full, fourposter canopy with intricate details carved into the woodwork. There was a nightstand with an old kerosene lamp on it next to the bed, but other than that, the room was sparsely decorated. Laila walked towards the bedside table and saw there was a book of matches next to the lamp. She struck a match, lit the lamp, and headed toward the door, which she found was unlocked.

Holding the lamp carefully, she made her way down the hallway towards what she hoped would be the staircase. She looked up at the walls in the dim light and old portraits stared back at her with a scrutinizing look. They almost looked like they were following her with their eyes, but she shook off the notion and kept going, eventually finding the stairs.

Laila stopped at the top of the stairs, just out of site. She needed to come up with a plan. These people had drugged her and taken her things from her, they were clearly dangerous. She remembered the fangs and her free hand rushed to her neck, feeling for marks that weren't there.

'Of course they're not there,' she thought, 'vampires aren't real. I'm just exaggerating the fang thing.'

Taking a deep breath, she made her way down the stairs. If someone made a grab at her, she could always throw the lamp at them and hoped they caught on fire. And after that, maybe she could find a phone while whoever was going up in smoke.

She looked around once she reached the bottom of the stairs, shivering slightly. It was chilly in the castle, and the fact that she was barefoot walking across the cool stone floor didn't help her feel warmer. She saw a light coming from one of the rooms to her right and cautiously crept forward. The door was slightly ajar, so she risked peeking in to see just who was in there. She saw the outline of what looked to be the count, his hands folded and pressed against his lips as he stared into the fire. Had his nails been that long when they met? He looked like something heavy was weighing on his mind. She watched him, unmoving, breathlessly. Despite the fact that he could very well be a psychotic, sadistic serial killer who had kidnapped her, she had to admit that he was incredibly good looking. The way the light played off of his high cheekbones and pale skin made him look like some strange but beautiful hybrid of a ghost and a china doll. He suddenly looked up and she withdrew from the door, pressing herself against the wall just outside the doorway. He hadn't looked in her direction, but she was not going to risk getting caught.

"Good, you've woken up," his voice came drifting out of the room casually, though he didn't come to the door. "I was about to come up and check on you myself if you hadn't risen soon." Laila stayed where she was, her heart beating a million miles a minute. How did he know she was out there? Had he seen her? He had to have. She swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and prayed that he thought he was wrong. "Stop being foolish. Come in and sit by the fire and warm up. I know you're cold."

Laila opened her eyes and slowly exhaled, puffing herself up slightly subconsciously in order to feel a bit more brave and stepped into the room. The count had his gaze fixed on her, a small, smug smirk playing across his lips. She swallowed and began walking toward the chair opposite of him, making sure to stay out of his reach and never taking her eyes from his..

'If he's going to kill me, he's going to have to look at me while doing it.'

"I apologize for having to drug you," he said nonchalantly as she sat down, placing her lamp on a nearby table. "But I hardly would have expected you to go along with our plan."

"And what plan was that?"

Von Krolock chuckled darkly, "Staging your death, of course."

Laila tensed, but did not break her gaze. She didn't like where this was going. "Why would you need to do that?"

The Count looked back to the fire. "Herbert thinks I'm a lonely old man, and he's right, to an extent."

"You don't look all that old to me."

His lips twisted into a bitter grin. "I suppose I should thank you for the compliment, but it's not exactly something I have great control over." He looked back up into Laila's dark blue eyes and she felt a chill. "The bit about the ad being put out as a practical joke was actually true. I decided to keep it out and reprint it in English, though, as a hopes of finding someone to... ease the loneliness."

Laila rose from her chair and stood behind it, ready to throw the still lit lantern at a moment's notice. Von Krolock waved a hand at her. "Sit down. I'm not going to hurt you or take advantage of you. I simply needed a companion. Herbert has Daniel, and now I have you."

"But why would you have to drug me and fake my death to get me to stay?" Laila demanded. "I would have paid the rent and stayed here of my own will, anyway! Why do all of this?"

The count grinned and her hand clasped at her throat. The fangs, they were real.

"Because no one would willingly live with a vampire."


	5. Chapter 5

_(Huzzah! A review! Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying it. I can't help but feel like this chapter turned out a bit sporadic in the conversation and everything. It's all Herbert's fault. XP I just can't handle that level of fabulousness.)_

**Chapter 5:**

Laila was in total shock and fear. She had fled the room the moment the Count ended his statement and ran upstairs. She was now hiding in her bed under the covers, silently freaking the hell out. Vampires are real. But, they can't be real! Why? Because they... can't! They just can't!

The door opening interrupted her frantic, broken thoughts and she stayed absolutely still. She heard a heavy thud and then some very light steps approach her bed.

"Laila, darling," Herbert said, poking at the large lump under the covers. "I've brought your things from the village. I can't begin to tell you how dreadful and cold it was out there in the snow. And it took the innkeeper _for-ev-er_ to produce your things."

Laila poked her head out of the covers and Herbert sat down on the edge of the bed, patting her head. His father had already told him she knew, and he knew how difficult it could be for some people to accept the fact that what they thought was fiction was in fact reality. "There, there, poppit. It's not all that bad. I mean, I did manage to convince father to let you keep some of your things. He wanted you to simply wear the dresses that we already have, but I insisted that you have your own clothes since all of the dresses are so old and most likely wouldn't fit you without a corest."

Then Laila remembered; her bag! And how did she get in this nightgown? She looked up at Herbert wildly, expecting things to only get worse. "What happened to the stuff that was with me? My bag and my clothes?"

"Oh, they're in the wild now," Herbert spoke nonchalantly, fussing with Laila's hair. "Father wanted to make your death convincing, so he told me to make it look like the wolves had gotten to you. I don't know if I've done a very good job, though. Disposing of evidence was never my strong suit."

"And... who changed my clothes?"

Herbert looked down at her, surprised she asked the question, then laughed. "I did, you silly! You think father would soil his name as a gentleman and see you naked on your first night here? Aw, how cute! Your cheeks are all pink with blush! You dirty girl."

Laila pulled the covers up around her cheeks so that only her eyes and forehead were visible. "Shut up. The only reason I thought about it was because you brought it up." Herbert laughed and patted her on the head again.

"So, you're not going to try and suck my blood, are you?" Laila asked, feeling more comfortable with Herbert than she did around the count. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was so fabulously sassy. "I mean, you're gay, right? And don't gay vampires only feed from men?"

Herbert gave her an odd look. "I prefer men to feed from, but I have fed from women before. It's survival, dear, plain and simple." Laila tensed. "Don't worry, I won't try to feed from you, though," Herbert added, examining his nails casually. "You're strictly father's companion. Besides, I already have my own little toy."

Laila scowled and took the covers from her face. "I am _no one's_ toy." The statement was weakened by a small yawn. Somewhere in the room, a clock struck midnight.

"You keep thinking that, darling, Herbert said, tucking her in. "It's late, you should really get some sleep." Laila didn't enjoy being treated like a child, but she was too tired to care.

Before Herbert left, she had to know, "He's not going to bit me while I sleep, is he?"

Herbert chuckled. "Don't worry dear. Father likes a healthy struggle."


	6. Chapter 6

_(Thanks for the positive words and please keep the reviews coming. They really push me to write. Bleh... Daniel's part was really difficult to write, though. Btw, the second half of this chapter is brought to you by the wonderful world of codine infused tylenol!)_

**Chapter 6:**

Laila hadn't slept very well at all that night. She kept randomly waking up, but then immediately falling back into a fitful sleep, her dreams uneasy and filled with shrieking bats and giant ravenous cloves of garlic. The chiming of her clock finally pulled her out of this cycle. She rolled over and opened her eyes, facing the window. It had stopped snowing, but it was still pretty grey outside. The clock sounded it's ninth and final chime and Laila groaned. She knew nobody would be up this early, and she had no idea where anything was in the castle. She slowly sat up and stretched, yawning as she did so.

She looked over at the door and saw her suitcase by it, which must have been heavy thud from last night. She had packed several small bags (toiletries and such) and one big one (clothes, but it had a lot of room left over), but she guessed Herbert had put everything into the big one. Her first order of business was to get into some warmer clothes. The castle was heated enough to keep the cold at bay, but it wasn't a comfortable warm by human standards; that and the nightgown she was wearing was only a light one with three-quarter sleeves. Shivering slightly, Laila got up and unzipped her suitcase. There was a note written in fine calligraphy sitting on top of her things. Laila opened the piece of paper and read:

"Laila,

I took the liberty of going through your things and removing all instruments that could have been used to contact the outside world. Herbert and Daniel will be making some gowns for you to wear so you'll look like a proper young lady in my presence. In the meantime, though, please make sure to wear a skirt to supper.

Sincerely yours,

Count Von Krolock"

Laila felt her temper rise. How dare he keep her here like this? What right did he have? Then she looked down and saw a postscript written in smaller lettering.

"P.S.

I also took the liberty of disposing of your vibrator. A young lady such as yourself shouldn't need such a device."

Laila felt her cheeks grow red with embarrassment and indignation. Not only was she speechless, but her brain seemed to have shut down with only fragments of sentences flying through her head. How did? When? What the? I can't believe...

"Ugh!" Laila crumpled the note and threw it into a nearby wastebasket. She stood there and sighed. 'I just won't think about it,' she thought, getting out a cream colored sweater and a pair of black pants. It was too embarrassing to think about the Count going through her things. At least he hadn't commented on her underwear.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`

Laila had found her way downstairs and into the dining room with little difficulty. It was much easier to navigate the castle in the light of day. As she was approaching the door she assumed led into the kitchen, she was surprised to find herself face to face with the serving boy from the previous night. He was carrying what looked like two bowls of oatmeal.

"Oh!" Laila gasped in surprise, stepping back to give the boy some room. "Sorry. You're name's Daniel, right?"

Daniel nodded and put down a bowl in front of the closest chair to them, pulling the chair out for Laila. She quickly sat down and Daniel took the chair across the table from her. Daniel began to eat quickly and Laila nibbled and picked at her oatmeal. She never had liked oatmeal much, but she would take what she could get. An awkward silence drew out until she couldn't stand it anymore.

"So how old are you? I mean, you don't look a day over 18."

Daniel pause and looked up at her. He nodded and then kept eating. Laila wasn't sure what to make of his silence.

"So you are 18? Oh wow. How old were you when you first came here?"

Daniel shrugged and finished his bowl, but he politely stayed seated until Laila had finished hers. As she did, she felt his eyes on her and she felt even more awkward. What was she supposed to say when this boy obviously was not going to answer her? When she finished, Daniel reached for the bowl and quickly took off for the kitchen.

"Thank you," Laila rushed as the door swung shut. She didn't think he had heard her. She sighed and waited for him to come back and when he didn't, she quietly left the large dining room. As she entered the foyer, her mind started working. She had to figure out a way to leave this place. She wasn't quite sure how, though. She didn't know where any of the coats were kept and it would be stupid to try and go outside without one. The snow had covered the road into town, so she would get lost for sure if she tried to leave now. She didn't even know where her shoes were.

She had wandered into the parlor where she had met the Count the night before. Her eyes happened upon the window and she was shocked to see that there was at least two feet of snow outside. She hadn't realized how much had come down last night. Looks like she would have a few days to figure out an escape plan.

"Nnn..."

Laila groaned and sank down into one of the armchairs. How had she gotten herself into this mess? More importantly, how was she going to protect herself from the vampires? She knew almost nothing about vampires except that they burned in sunlight and didn't like crosses or garlic. Her vampire knowledge stopped there. Suddenly, an idea struck her. Laila got out of her chair and took off down a random hallway, opening any door that wasn't locked and peeking in, hoping that the castle at least had a library. She was going to brush up on her vampire lore.


	7. Chapter 7

_(Woo! More readers! . sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out. I've been on vacation before summer session starts and I was not well.)_

**Chapter 7:**

It had taken Laila _hours_ to find the library. The castle seemed too big for its own good. It hadn't helped that she kept getting lost and somehow managed her way back to the foyer every time. By the time she finally did reach the library, it was 12:30 in the afternoon. Laila sat down in a lounge chair and sighed, looking up at the massive library. It would take forever to go through each and every one of these books. There's no way she was going to be able to find what she needed.

She laid back in the chair and sighed. Her legs were sore from all the walking she had done yesterday and today and she felt her energy draining from her. The more she looked up at the ceiling the more her thoughts began to drift. How long was the Count going to keep her here? And how was he going to keep her in the castle during the day once the snow was gone? It was early February, so the maximum the snow could keep her in was two months. A lot could happen in two months. In... two...

Laila sat bolt upright, a sudden thought coming to her. What was going to happen when she got her period? Being in a house of vampires was probably the worst thing you could do when Aunt Flow came to visit. She sat back and thought. Her period had just ended a few days ago ('That was convenient,' thought Laila), so she had at least three weeks to figure out what she was going to do. Laila sighed and pushed herself up off the chair.

"I guess I have to start looking."

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`

By the time the sun had set, Laila had barely scratched the surface of the library. She quickly realized that the books weren't organized in any particular order, so she had to look through each and every one in order to find anything useful. She didn't find much, but she knew there were more books containing the information she needed. She sighed and placed the few books she had found on one of the desks towards the back of the room. She looked at the dusty grandfather clock and bit her lip nervously when she saw it was ten til five. She looked down nervously at the sweater she was wearing. Laila had only packed one skirt and knew it would make her look frumpy with her top. But the sweater was so warm...

Laila stood and decided that rather being late for dinner and properly dressed, she would just go in her thick jeans and warm fuzzy sweater and be on time. Heading off in the direction she thought she had come from earlier, she soon found herself completely lost in the corridors of the castle. Why was it she could never get to where she was going to? Laila then recognized a portrait up ahead and a certain suit of armour with a heavy battle axe. She quickened her pace a little, excited by the prospect of recognizing where she was and almost ran straight into Herbert.

"Goodness!" Herbert exclaimed out of surprise. "Well here you are! You're late for dinner, you know. It's after five o'clock. Father sent me to come and find you."

"I-I got lost," Laila stammered, trying to regain her composure. She hadn't expected to run into anyone and Herbert suddenly appearing from around the corner had startled her a bit.

"Well, come along," Herbert said, walking back the way he had came with Laila following quickly behind him. "We must get you changed for supper and quickly. Father doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Actually, I thought I'd stay in the clothes I have on now," Laila said casually. Herbert stopped and turned to look at her, a brow arched. "It's cold in here, Herbert. I don't like the cold."

Herbert shook his head and lead her to the main foyer, pointing her towards the dining room.

"You're not joining us?" Laila asked as Herbert slowly started climbing the stairs.

"Daniel and I shall be dining in a separate chamber. Besides, someone's got to prepare some sort of proper attire for you."

"I really don't think that'll be necessary."

Herbert simply sighed and continued up the stairs. Laila rolled her eyes and entered the dining room. Seeing the Count already at his seat, she hurried to cross the room to get to the chair across from him, explaining as she went.

"Sorry I'm late, but I got lost coming from the library a-"

"Did I not tell you to wear a skirt?"

Laila stopped with her hand on her chair without sitting down. She looked at the Count, almost confused at his question. Was he really going to enforce a dress code on her?

"With all due respect, Count, it's a bit cold in this castle. I prefer to stay warm. Besides, I only packed one skirt with me." 'You should know after looking through my stuff,' she thought irritatedly.

The Count's face was not amused. "When I give a command, I expect it to be followed. Now either go put a skirt or a dress on, or you won't be served your supper, is that understood."

Laila leered at the man. She could tell by just his tone that he was being completely serious and his expression showed that he was not about to move on the matter.

"Alright," Laila all but huffed in defeat and began walking out. "I'll be right back."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

Laila came down the stairs wearing a red, crushed velvet, floor length dress with three-quarter sleeves, a slight v-neckline that closed just below her collar bones, and a matching velvet ribbon that cinched in the dress near the top of her hips, showing off her curves exquisitely. Laila was just happy she didn't have to wear heels with this dress. She could walk in heels, and she could walk in floor length skirts, just not together at the same time. She had nearly sprained her ankle that way at her senior prom. No, Laila was instead enjoying the comfort of her thick black socks and white house slippers. Herbert had suggested losing the pink fuzzy ones and wear something that would go better with the dress.

She was incredibly nervous. What if the Count tried to turn her into his dinner? How would she be able to fight him off? She had looked around her room while getting changed for some sort of cross, but had no luck finding one. She began to wonder if making a cross with her fingers would work when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. It was von Krolock, leaning casually against the door frame with his arms crossed and an annoyed, impatient look on his face. As she approached, he stood upright and took her hand, gently kissing it.

"Do you always greet women this way?" Laila asked, avoiding eye contact with the man. She had to suppress a small chill that ran down her spine when his lips made contact with her skin. Whether it was from the coldness of his skin or how soft his lips felt, she couldn't tell.

"You will quickly learn, Laila," von Krolock stated, leading her into the dining room and pulling her chair out for her. "That I am not only old-fashioned by today's standards, but I am also impatient."

Laila held her tongue as the Count took the chair around the corner from her and she looked down at her dinner. Nothing special. Just penne with red sauce and mozzarella cheese with a side of bread to go with it.

"I do hope you enjoy pasta. Like I said last night, our pantry is a bit bare." The Count grinned, showing his fangs and Laila cringed as she lay her napkin in her lap. "Although, you probably can guess the true nature as to why now."

Laila hesitantly picked up her fork and began poking at her bowl of pasta. She was hungry, yes, but how did she know he hadn't drugged the food... again.

"Laila, dear," Laila looked up and saw the Count was looking at her with a mixture of reproach and boredom. "Just eat your dinner, please. I promise you, nothing illicit has been added to your food."

She hesitantly took a forkful of pasta and placed it in her mouth, savoring the succulent taste of the pasta; the perfect balance of vegetable, meat, and cheese. Before she knew it, half her bowl was gone and the Count chuckled, causing her to look up at his amused smirk.

"You certainly eat fast," he remarked, resting his face against his fist, relaxing back in his chair. For some reason, Laila felt her face grow hot.

She quickly swallowed and replied, "Sorry. I was really hungry."

"Trust me, I know the feeling," the Count replied with a bitter edge to his voice. Laila jumped as he suddenly called for Daniel. The boy immediately came out of the kitchen with a wine glass and a single, marked bottle of red wine. Daniel set out the glass in front of Laila and carefully poured the fragrant French liquid until the Count dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Laila could feel the Count's eyes on her as she ignored the glass and continued eating.

"Are you not thirsty?" the Count asked.

Laila swallowed and looked up at him. She didn't trust anything the Count was providing for her, but she didn't want to be rude and set off what she could tell was a terrible temper. "I'm not a huge fan of wine."

"Try it. I can almost guarantee you'll enjoy it."

Laila set down her fork and reached for the glass, taking a small sip. She was honestly surprised. It was a very smooth wine, with just the right amount of sweetness and with a beautiful aroma.

The Count chuckled, "Was I not right?"

All Laila could do was nod as she finished her dinner and when she finished, Daniel came out and collected her dishes again without a word.

"Is he always so quiet?" Laila asked once Daniel was out of the room.

"Daniel is a mute," the Count explained calmly, sitting upright and fixing his eyes on her once again. "The boy hasn't spoken for as long as we've had him."

"How long has he been here?"

"Does it matter?" The Count dismissed, leaning forward. There was something in his eyes that Laila didn't like and made her feel incredibly uneasy. The Count flashed her a fangy grin and said, "Let's get down to my supper, shall we?"

Laila began to panic. She knew this was going to happen, and she had nothing to defend herself with. The Count stood and slowly made his way over to her. Laila automatically stood and began backing up, looking for something- anything- that could ward off the looming vampire. Her eyes darted to the side and saw two brand new, unlit candles lying out on the table; replacements for the ones that were about to go out in the candelabra. Laila grabbed the sticks and held them up in the form of a cross, standing her ground. The Count's reaction was not what she expected.

He suddenly stopped and stared at her blankly for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing coldly. He closed the gap between them instantly and took the candles out of her hands, placing them back on the table.

"Only crosses wielded in faith have any effect on me," the Count said, backing her into a chair. As soon as Laila fell into the chair, the Count was standing over her, his strong hands placed on either side of her on the arms of the chair. There was no way for her to get out.

"Shhhh... It's going to be alright," von Krolock said in a soothing tone, taking a hand and gently brushing a strand of the now trembling girl's hair back behind her ear. His eyes sparkled with that same look, and her uneasiness grew.

Laila closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. "Just, get it over with," she said quietly.

"That's kind of you to offer, but I don't need that much," the Count said calmly. Laila turned to him and opened her eyes, confused as the Count knelt down in front of her. Laila stared at the Count, completely dumbstruck by his sudden switch in demeanor. That look was gone, whatever it was. He seemed so much calmer now, so less... predatory. He began to lift Laila's wrist to his mouth. "I just need a taste..."

Laila snatched her hand away, but remained in her seat. She was not amused.

"You couldn't have told me that earlier? You scared me half to death! That's no way to treat your guest!"

Von Krolock grimaced and forcefully took her hand back, holding it firmly so she couldn't pull away again.

"You're not a guest, Laila," The Count said sternly before quickly piercing Laila's skin with his fangs, enough to cause her to yelp in pain yet shallow enough to only bring forth a small trickle. Laila turned her head away as the Count began to drink up the small trickle of blood that flowed from her wrist. After a long moment, though, he pulled away and pressed a handkerchief to her wounds. Licking his lips, the Count stood and scowled down at her.

"You belong to me now."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: **

"That's all of them, I think."

Laila stood over a rather large stack of dusty books, both new and ancient**. **It had taken her at least a week and a half to look through the entire library, and even then she still wasn't sure if she had gotten everything she needed. During her search, she gathered as many books on vampires as she could, fiction and non. Most of the books were in Romanian, others in various European languages she didn't know how to read, and a few were in English (which she was very grateful for). She was about to crack open a rather old looking English copy of Bram Stoker's _Dracula_ when she heard a small bell begin to toll.

Laila sighed as the clock in the corner chimed 5 o'clock. She had to start getting ready for dinner. The Count had more or less left her alone since he fed from her that one night, much to her relief. If she were honest with herself, she would admit that he scared her, but her stubborn sense of pride only let her think he intimidated her because of his supernatural qualities.

Not only did she fear him, though; she borderline hated the man for keeping her here like a prisoner. It was true that she came here to lie low and drop off the map for a while, but there was a difference between doing it willingly and being held against your will. Not that she could go anywhere. Every time the snow melted enough for her to even think of leaving, another blizzard would blow through and block off the entrance ways. _This is what I get for coming up on a mountain in the middle of winter_, she would tell herself every time it snowed.

So for the past week and a half she had had nothing better to do than get lost in the castle and look through the library for information on her captor's species.

When she made her way down to dinner at 6 o'clock, she wasn't surprised at all to see the Count waiting for her. What did surprise her, however, was when he remained in his seat across from her instead of excusing himself like he had been doing.

"I found a very interesting article online today," he commented casually.

Laila's fork paused midway to her mouth out of shock and she looked at him in surprise. "_You_ own a computer?" She had so much trouble picturing him using anything more modern than a candlestick phone, let alone a computer. He just seemed too old-fashioned for it.

The vampire grimaced at her, obviously not thrilled with her reaction.

"Of course I own a computer," he said irritatedly. "How else am I supposed to keep track of my finances in this day and age?"

A brief, tense moment passed between them before Laila asked, "What was this article you found about?"

The Count's demeanor changed instantly from frustrated and irritated to calm, aloof, and almost smug.

"It seems the officials at Scotland Yard have stumbled upon a mass grave in a moor in southern Scotland," he continued coolly, topping off Laila's glass of white wine. "They've found bits and bones of at least 30 women, all roughly around the same age."

Laila paused, stiff for a moment and then continued to eat her dinner. "The work of someone you know?"

The smugness disappeared from the vampire's manner and he became angry and defensive. "No one I am acquainted with would brutally tear apart people," he growled. His next sentence, however, carried a small tone of sadness to it. "Only a truly disturbed individual would do something like that to a woman."

Another tense moment passed between the two. Laila kept her head bowed towards her dinner plate, picking at the little food that was left. She glanced up at the vampire every few seconds and noticed that he seemed distant and detached - like he was lost in some ancient memory. "Have they caught whoever is responsible for the murders?"

"Give them time, dear," the Count replied, snapping out of his trance and eying her with a look of sly knowing. "They'll catch whoever's responsible.

"It's strange, though," he continued in a pondering tone, "All of the women they've identified so far look surprisingly similar and oddly familiar to me."

"I don't feel very well," Laila said abruptly, getting up from the table. "I'm going to lay down for a while."

"One moment," the Count said, rising from his seat and catching her by the wrist. She turned to inquire as to what he wanted, but he had already rolled up her sleeve and was kissing her wrist affectionately. Laila tried to pull away, but he pulled her to him with his free arm, trapping her against his body. The Count locked eyes with her and smirked before closing them and biting into her wrist. Laila squirmed and made small groans of pain and protest, but dared not try and pull her hand away from his face.

When he released her a few moments later, he pressed a handkerchief to her wrist and, releasing her from his grasp, said breathless and flushed, "Now you may go."

Laila turned and fled to her room, shutting and locking the door, not emerging until dawn.

_._._._._._._._._

_Hot damn, we're getting to the plot! ...Kind of. Looks like someone's got a secret. Thanks for being so patient guys. I've been having health and school issues. And remember, reviews and constructive criticism keep me going. :) Cheers!  
><em>


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

Laila waited until she was sure the Count and his son were asleep before emerging from her room the next morning. She was up all night thinking of the mass grave that had been brought up at dinner. They found bodies. So many more than she had realized. Would they be able to trace them back to her? Would they find what she left behind when she had left? So many questions, and there was no way for her to keep tabs on the story. The newspaper wasn't delivered to the castle (and ever if it was, she wouldn't be able to read it very well) and she hadn't even known there was a computer around until last night. The only way she could possibly keep up with what was going on was through the Count, and she did not want him prying too deeply.

Laila groaned and made her way to the kitchen to get some breakfast. She didn't see Daniel, so she helped herself to a bit of toast with butter and jam and a nice hot cup of green tea with lemon. She quietly ate her breakfast in silence and solitude, her mind still buzzing. What if the Count already knew? He had gone through her things when she first got here. Laila shook her head, quickly dismissing the idea. There was no way he would be able to know, especially not from going through her things. There hadn't been anything in there to tie her to it.

He strongly suspected her at the very least, though. She could tell by the smug looks he had given her. That arrogant, all-knowing look in his eyes. The boastful, teasing tone in his voice. The way his full lips curled into a smirk.

Laila's thoughts trailed to the feed last night. She hadn't realized how small she was compared to his stature until he pulled her to knew that if he wanted to, he could easily do serious harm to her and she was thankful that she hadn't provoked his temper yet. His face was incredibly handsome with almost perfect facial symmetry. He had pale, full lips above a strong jaw and chin. His nose was long and pointed, but proportionate to the rest of his long face and well placed. His eyes were his most distinctive: the had a slight inward slant that gave him an intense look, even when he smiled. They had an aged look about them, which Laila supposed was expected from a vampire. For all she knew, he could be thousands of years old. There was something else about his eyes, though. It was more than the beautiful crystal blue color, there was something dark lurking beneath the surface. Maybe it didn't even have anything to do with being a vampire; she didn't know, it was too early to tell.

She remembered how he had pulled her close and how she had felt his body through their clothes. He was very well built: his muscles were firm and she couldn't help but wonder if he actively worked out or if being a vampire just made you unbelievably ripped. Her mind started to wander and she wondered what he looked like with his shirt off...

Laila sat up straight and shook her head, trying to shake the thoughts of the Count from her mind. He was her captor. She shouldn't be having these thoughts about him. She had to stubbornly admit, thought, that he _was _attractive. Was it considered Stockholm syndrome if she was attracted to him before he locked her up?

Laila finished her toast and pushed herself away from the table. She had to stop thinking about the Count like this. Besides, she had work to do anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's note: Slight trigger warning for unwanted touching (which is as much as I can say without giving out spoilers)._

**Chapter 11:**

Laila stretched and looked over at the mantle in her room. Tired of sitting in the windowless, musty library, she had taken a few books up to her room and opened the drapes wide, allowing the warm afternoon sun to spill through and illuminate the chilly room. The clock sitting atop the polished stone showed 3:48, and the sun would start setting soon. Laila put a book mark in the copy of _'Salem's Lot_ by Stephen King she was reading, and leaned her head back against her pillows. She had gone from sitting on top of her neatly made bed, to huddled warmly under her many covers over the course of the afternoon, the chill of the room being too much for her. She sighed, trying to will herself to get out of bed and start getting ready for dinner, but her bed was just so warm and comfortable. The heaviness of the comforter over her body and the warmth from being under it calmed and soothed her to the point where it made her mind fuzzy and made her so tired. She closed her eyes, wanting just five more minutes to herself before having to go back to the cold reality of the Count and his castle...

Laila awoke with a small start, unsure of what had woke her. The room was dark and she felt incredibly groggy. The clock chimed 7:00 daintily behind her and she realized she had slept later than she meant to. Something felt off about the room, though. Laila reached over to the lamp on her bedside table and turned it on. She almost let out a small yelp of surprise when she saw the Count standing over her, looking down with… was that lust or hunger in his eyes?

"Good evening, Laila," the Count greeted gruffly. He inhaled deeply, unconsciously baring his large fangs. "You seem to be bleeding."

Laila looked up at him, puzzled. How could she be bleeding? She hadn't cut herself on anything. She moved and sat up, and then she felt it: there was a small, warm pool of thick liquid between her legs. Laila closed her eyes, grave understanding coming over her. How could she have forgotten so easily about her period?

She heard the rustle of fabric and felt a small weight on the edge of the mattress. Laila opened her eyes and saw the Count leaning down on the mattress with one hand, the other gripping the edge of the covers very tightly. He slowly began to pull the covers back and Laila caught his wrist, silently willing him to stop. She looked up at his face, and he only briefly glanced at her before taking his free hand and removing hers from his wrist, then continuing to inch the covers down slowly.

Laila went to tell him to stop, but he looked up, and his gaze locked with hers. She couldn't bring herself to speak as she felt the warmth of her blankets leave her legs, the Count's eyes locked on hers the entire time. He sat down on the bed next to her, his hand still gently grasping her wrist. She watched, completely immobilized by an unknown force, as he raised her wrist to his mouth. Something in the back of her mind registered how bad her situation was, but she felt completely powerless under the vampire's gaze to do anything at all. The entire experience felt like she was in a dream.

The Count kissed the scars on Laila's wrists from his previous feeds tenderly before bringing his other hand to her face, gently tracing the back of his fingers along her cheek. He began to lean in towards her, and her mind began to struggle more. She didn't want this to be happening. Not now and not like this. His cool touch felt nice against her flushing skin, though, and something was telling her that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to give in. The rational part of her could tell her desire to surrender herself to the Count was him somehow getting in her head and manipulating her, but she couldn't piece together how.

His forehead came to rest gently against hers, and his eyes seemed to have an unnatural glow to them now. His hand left her cheek and slowly trailed down, his nails and fingers gently gliding over and exploring the entirety of her neck and collar bone. His nose brushed against hers, his head tilted to the side, and his lips grazed hers as his hand slid down, grazing her breast and coming to stop and rest gently on her waist. The Count seemed to hesitate a moment before gently peppering kisses around her lips. He began to move down her chin, his hand coming around to her stomach. He grew more aggressive, his grip on her wrist tightening, his mouth moving down from her chin to the top of her neck with his fangs scraping her skin, and his hand moving lower, its destination the source of the bleeding.

"Stop," Laila gasped out. The fog her mind had been in lifted a little now that they weren't staring at each other and she could feel her will returning to her. The Count didn't stop, though, and began lightly biting at her neck, almost as if feeling for the perfect spot. His hand began to toy with the button on her jeans. She weakly grabbed his wrist again with her free hand, trying to halt his progress, and she repeated again, louder, "Stop!"

With something between a snarl and a growl, the Count bit into her neck, causing Laila to cry out and tense up in pain. They seemed to be frozen in place for a moment, Laila in pain and scared to move as the Count drank deeply from her. Then the door burst open, there was a splash of water, and Laila felt the Count leap back from her, and primal hiss escaping his lips. Clutching her neck to try and stop the bleeding, Laila looked around and saw Daniel advancing silently towards the Count, a cross in one hand and a small, white bottle in the other. Laila didn't even think before she got up on the other side of the bed and ran to her adjoining bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She went to lock it, but her vision blurred and her knees buckled under her. As she slid down the door, she could hear the Count yelling what she could only guess were obscenities in the other room, her door slamming shut, and then silence. The last thing she could here before everything went black was the sound of light, hurried footsteps approaching her bathroom door.


End file.
